


One More Baby (aka Tales of Dragon Baby)

by fictorium (orphan_account)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FTL: Regina accidentally gets Emma pregnant. But are there... side effects with babies conceived through magic?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Have you lost your mind?” Emma shrieks, backing away from Regina in the bedroom they’re apparently sharing, although nobody is acknowledging that fact out loud, least of all Emma or Regina.

“It would be…nice,” Regina persists, stalking across the stone floor in that determined way she has. “If I were able to do it myself…”

“Oh, so I get asked by default? Regina, you won’t even let me tell my parents we’re actually dating. Now you want to have another kid? No—correction—you want me to have another kid and raise it with you?” Emma has a good head of steam up now; it’s been a while since she last got really furious.

“Tell them whatever you want,” Regina says airily. “But I think my seducing their only daughter might make them less inclined to honor our pact of forgiveness.”

“You didn’t seduce me!” Emma yells, because they’ve had  _this_  argument before.

“They won’t see it that way,” Regina counters, licking her lips as she closes in on Emma. “But if we were to choose to have a child together, well. Then I’d be family. I’d be protected.”

“So you’re using me?” Emma asks. “Christ, I thought we were past all this.”

“Emma,” Regina says, her voice low and dangerous. Despite the swagger, Emma catches that familiar glow in her eyes, the one that says she’s struggling with something. Maybe just a minute of being patient… “Emma, you’re not taking this the right way at all.

“Oh?” Emma replies. “Then what’s the right way?”

“I… love you,” Regina manages to say, but it costs her. “You are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever set eyes on, outside of a mirror.” Oh good, her sense of humor isn’t dead, Emma thinks. “And you already gave me one perfect son. Don’t you see why I’d want another?”

“Ah,” Emma says, trying to stop the blush on her cheeks and failing. “If you’re going to be like that about it. I guess… I always assumed I’d get another chance. But then we came back here—”

“Here makes it more possible, not less,” Regina points out. “Magic is stronger than biology, after all.”

“Okay, seriously,” Emma warns. “I don’t want to end up having a unicorn baby. Or a dragon.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Regina scolds, but the smirk says she knows she’s back in winning territory. “Does that mean you’re in?”

“Oh God,” Emma groans. “I think it means I am.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What?” Regina snaps at the hapless Page. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” She turns her back on the idiot, watching the bubbling liquid in front of her.

“It’s, um, it’s the Queen, your Majesty. The other, um, Queen.”

“What does Snow want now?” Regina wonders aloud, because actually talking to the trembling man would require a patience she does not possess today. Instead, she stirs her cauldron for the all-important fifth time, smiling in satisfaction as the liquid turns purple and she extinguishes the flame beneath it. 

”She requested your presence,” the Page continues. “In Princess Emma’s quarters.”

“Emma?” Regina seizes on the new detail. Her potion forgotten, she rounds on the Page. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

She’s not supposed to be able to use magic within the castle grounds, and Regina has seen no reason to alert her former stepdaughter to the fact that the Blue Fairy’s protective spells are no match for a witch of Regina’s powers. Now, though, she’ll risk exposure. The castle is vast, and a Queen (even a deposed, disgraced Queen) does not run. For Emma to ask for help is proof enough that there’s an emergency, especially when she’s using Snow as an intermediary. 

Focusing on the staircase outside what is now their bedroom, Regina curls her fingers and begins the silent incantation. She can feel herself becoming light, lifting off the ground as she becomes lighter than air, until she’s falling apart; falling and flying until she’s nothing at all. For a few seconds she ceases to exist, to be anything more than a whisper of a breeze, and the freedom is as heady as ever. Half a moment later, she can feel the stone beneath her feet. She can feel the stone beneath her feet, the feeling of her tongue pressing against her teeth, of her hips as her hands land on them, steadying her.

It’s done, and instead of looking around for anyone who might blurt her secret, Regina marches straight through the heavy wooden door, remembering just in time to lay a hand on it for show. 

“Emma?” She asks, but only Snow is in her line of sight. Snow’s dress is as white as Regina’s own clothes are black, leaving Snow with that ethereal glow that people mistake for heightened beauty. It’s becoming less powerful, but Regina still has to bite back a wave of revulsion every time she lays eyes on the woman who is now her Queen. 

“Where is she?” Regina demands, the panic rising like acid in the back of her throat. It’s been a difficult few months and this morning Emma all but banished her from this end of the castle. If anything has happened and they left things on bad terms.

“She’s okay,” Snow soothes, tilting her head as she watches Regina’s contained panic. “You really care about her?”

That it’s still a question is to be expected. Regina faked love for Snow for a long time after that love had crystallized into hate, and suspicion has been one healthy thing Regina taught her.

“Just tell me where Emma is,” Regina says, but she manages to keep the malice out of her voice. 

“I’m here,” Emma says, her voice as croaky as a frog’s. She’s tucked into the corner of the window seat, partially obscured by the dark red drapes. Regina looks at the woman who, for all intents and purposes, is her wife—the blood red curtains make her think of the jacket Emma wore on the day they met (and too many days after that).

“What’s wrong?” Regina hesitates, uncomfortable with the idea that Snow will witness this private moment. The road to a mother-daughter relationship has not been easy for Emma, but ever since announcing the pregnancy, something has clicked into place for that branch on the Royal Family tree.

Deciding that Emma’s comfort is more important than Snow’s opinion, Regina strides across to sit beside Emma, the leather of her boots squeaking as she makes the short journey.

“Hey,” she says, laying one hand carefully on Emma’s shin. “What’s wrong?”

“I felt really ill again,” Emma confesses, her voice small as she stares out of the window at the rolling meadows that surround the castle. “I’m okay now, but for a minute there…”

“You had morning sickness with Henry?” Regina nudges, trying to remind Emma that she’s survived this once before. She can see the doubt on Emma’s face, scrubbed clean of makeup, her blonde hair hanging limply. And, pathetically, she’s still the most beautiful person Regina’s ever seen.

“It’s different this time. And the heartburn—”

“Well, you are having a little dragon, dear,” Regina teases, smirking at Snow White who can’t possibly be in on the joke. 

“You promised…” Emma trails off weakly, and for the first time in weeks Regina feels truly evil. The sparring in their relationship is like a form of oxygen, but all bets are off with the hormones (and yes, perhaps just a little bit of magic) that allow Emma to carry a child that is both hers and Regina’s. 

“I’m kidding!” Regina protests, and Snow be damned, she moves in to envelop Emma in a slightly awkward hug. The growing bump is causing them to navigate each other’s bodies differently on a daily basis, but the intent matters more than the execution. Regina presses a kiss to the top of Emma’s head, smelling her own apple shampoo faintly; it smells better on Emma. “Darling, this baby is healthy and very, very human. I promise.”

“You’re a real bitch, sometimes,” Emma mumbles, and Regina just blinks at her until Emma breaks out into a grin. “But I guess I knew that when we started, huh?”

“Is she going to be okay?” Snow asks from across the room. Her arms are folded across her chest and the expectant expression is every bit the haughty Royal she claims not to be. 

“I’ll be fine,” Emma assures her. “Thank you for looking after me. And for getting Regina back here.”

“I hope I’m never in a situation where that woman is the cure,” Snow mutters, but there’s no denying her relief.

“I can take it from here,” Regina says firmly. “Maybe some tea?” 

Emma pulls a face, which is the most promising sign so far. 

“A bath, then,” Regina offers, with a sly wink that Snow doesn’t get to see. “I’m sure that will have you feeling perky again.”

“I’ve never been perky,” Emma grouses, but she’s squeezing Regina’s hand even though the hugging has ended.

“Thanks, Mom,” Emma says to Snow, who busts out a stunned smile of her own. “We’ll see you at dinner.”

“As you wish,” Snow says, still grinning. She leaves, and Regina heaves a sigh of relief. 

“Hey,” Emma warns. “They’re not going anywhere, you know.”

“Neither am I,” Regina snaps. “Although we will be revisiting the topic of our own home once our little unicorn is born.”

“Stop that,” Emma says, swatting at her. “And come on. We have a bath to take.”

Emma slips off the window ledge, still slender in her simple blue dress. The roundness of her abdomen draws Regina’s hand towards it, although it’s still too early to feel much.

“It’s much nicer,” Emma says quietly. “This time. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade Henry for the world, but…”

“It’s better,” Regina agrees. “I get to be here for all of it.”

“Control freak,” Emma teases. 

“Bet your ass,” Regina says, tugging Emma towards the bathroom. “And I plan on exerting that control,” she adds, capturing Emma’s sweet lips in a kiss. “Right. Now.”

Emma laughs, and as it echoes off the tiles, Regina’s pleasantly surprised to hear her own laugh joining it. 


	3. Chapter 3

Regina has relented on the topic of family dinners, held every Friday evening in the King’s private dining room. Well, her dad’s private dining room, Emma mentally corrects. She is never going to get used to all this.

They’re late, of course, because Regina’s revenge for this ongoing arrangement is to withdraw to her own, more modest castle from Wednesday morning through Friday afternoon. It’s her way of asserting independence from the Royal Family, although as her due date approaches it’s starting to make Emma a lot more nervous.

She hates that she wants Regina around all the time, even when she’s being difficult. She especially hates that Henry usually goes with Regina, because no kid is going to turn down his mom teaching him some basic magic. Regina’s limited discussion of the topic suggests that what Henry lacks in natural ability he’s making up for in intelligence and dedication; it’s kind of adorable to see how proud that makes Regina, because the issue of biology has always been a sensitive one since Emma waltzed into her life three years ago. 

Still, Emma considers, rubbing her bump gently, at least this baby will share some of the traits she loves most about Regina. It’s hard to say how she knows, but in dreams at least Emma sees a dark-haired little girl, with Regina’s olive complexion and those eyes that are almost impossible to say no to. In fact, Emma’s pretty sure she’s screwed as far as ever being able to discipline the kid goes, and she’s not even born yet. Oh well, Regina’s got a lifetime’s experience of playing ‘bad cop’; let her deal with it.

They turn the last corner on the approach to the dining room, and Emma has been glad of the exercise. Lately all she does is waddle from bed to chair to couch, it feels like, and she knows how important it is to keep active as much as possible. Regina, even in her sweeping black dress and dramatic make-up, is still content to be supportive, offering her arm to Emma as they walk. 

“Here goes,” Emma mutters as the heavy oak doors swing open. “Play nicely, please.”

“I always do,” Regina snipes, looking scandalized, and not very convincingly. “Just don’t get them started on the Ogre Wars again, or I may not hold my tongue.”

“Fine,” Emma says, before dropping Regina’s arm and going across to greet her parents. Henry is already seated, muttering something under his breath as he waves his fingers at one of the candles. Great, Emma thinks. Between Regina’s jokes about their imminent dragon baby and Henry’s budding pyromania, they’re kind of in trouble. He stops when Regina takes the seat beside him, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head that makes him squirm and pull a face. Thirteen year-old boys are much the same in any world, Emma thinks.

“Regina,” Snow greets her former stepmother, and Emma holds her breath for the confrontation that usually flares up. Regina, unusually, opts to behave.

“Snow. James,” she replies. “Thank you for keeping Henry occupied while I collected Emma.”

Emma wants to point out that she’s not a package left at the FedEx depot, but she refrains in the interests of keeping the peace. She’s been shut up in her tower all day, after all, and now she actually feels like socializing.

“Emma, dear,” Snow turns to her with eyes glistening already. “How are you feeling? Is she kicking?”

“About the same as yesterday,” Emma confesses. When she’d been pregnant with Henry she had craved this much attention, a doting grandmother waiting to fawn over him. In reality, she’s finding it just a little exhausting.

“And have you thought about names?” James persists. “I have some suggestions, of course.”

“Not yet,” Emma cuts him off. “But Regina and I will be sure to take on board any ideas you have, nearer the time.”

“Yes,” Regina agrees. “By all means.” She only sounds slightly sarcastic, which is huge progress.

“There is one name that keeps coming to me,” Emma confesses, encouraged by the unexpected civility. “I saw this movie, a few years ago, about a girl who finds a whole other version of her life. Anyway, it’s stupid, but she had a pretty name.”

“Well, what was it?” Henry asks. “Have I seen that movie?”

Emma smiles at him, their unspoken solidarity for the world they called home rising to the surface.

“Coraline,” Emma says. She’s surprised at the gasp it draws from her mother, but that’s nothing to the sight of Regina who looks as though she’s been struck by lightning.

“Wait, what did I—” Emma starts to ask, but it’s Snow who clamps a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t,” Snow warns. “Let’s change the subject. Regina, do you need a moment?”

Regina nods weakly, standing up from the table. She stumbles as she crosses the room and exits, but she doesn’t look back at Emma even once.

“Okay,” Snow says, removing her hand. “Quickly, before she comes back. Are you sure this movie is the only reason the name appeals to you?”

“Well,” Emma thinks for a moment. “I had a dream about it a few times, which is weird. And I found myself doodling it today when I was supposed to be painting. Why?”

It’s Henry who speaks next.

“Her name was Cora, wasn’t it, Grandma?”

“Yes,” Snow agrees, reaching for James’ hand. “Emma, has Regina ever discussed her mother with you?”

“No,” Emma admits. “She doesn’t talk about her parents at all. We’ve just agreed to let the subject drop, really.”

“Well, she may decide to, after this. You must be understanding, okay? It hasn’t been easy.”

Footsteps sound in the corridor, and Snow rearranges her look of concern into a mask of nonchalance. 

“Right,” she says cheerily as Regina walks back into the room. “Where’s that steward? We have a lovely dinner to eat!”

Emma sits back in her chair, watching Regina like a hawk as she returns to her place at the table. When Regina catches her staring, Emma raises her eyebrows in question. Regina hesitates, before mouthing ‘later’ across the table at her. This time, when Regina pulls Henry into a hug, he doesn’t resist at all.

The food arrives then, heaped high on silver platters, and the room descends into easy chatter. Emma fills her plate and reaches for her juice, watching Regina carefully at every turn. She suspects tonight will not be pleasant for either of them, but she has no idea what to do about it.

This, she supposes, is what commitment really means. It reminds her, not surprisingly, that she must sit down with her father and request a change to the laws to permit her marriage to Regina. No matter what they unearth tonight, Emma’s mind is already made up in that regard. 

She smiles softly across the table, turning to each of her family in turn. Yes, Emma decides, no matter what else happens, this has all been worth it. She lays a hand on her stomach again, feeling the kick from her daughter; for her sake, Emma will make sure that nothing else breaks.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma says nothing as they trail back to their tower, Henry chattering nervously as he runs along in front. There’s to be some kind of fayre or festival in the coming week, and Regina hasn’t paid attention to any of the preparations. Perhaps this might be the time to suggest returning to her own home for a few unscheduled days, but Regina finds the anxiety of separation every bit as horrible as the conversation that no doubt awaits her.

”Mom!” Henry yells back at her, clearly frustrated by her lack of attention. Regina’s already concerned that he’ll feel marginalized by the new baby, and so the guilt at seemingly ignoring him rises up quickly.

“Yes, Henry?” She struggles to keep her voice light, but manages to avoid meeting Emma’s eye. The concern that’s positively radiating at Regina is enough to contend with.

“Will you come and see me shoot in the morning?” Henry asks. “Only Sergio says my stance is perfect now, and I might even win a prize.”

Archery is a surprising passion for Henry, but Regina supposes he has to do something with his growth spurt and all that restless curiosity. She’s never been a fan of giving weapons to children, but in the scheme of things it’s pretty harmless.

“Of course, dear,” Regina replies easily. “I hope you’ve been practicing hard.”

“Duh,” Henry fires back, smirking. He’s still very much a child of another world at times like these.

“Hey kid,” Emma chimes in as they approach the stairs. “It’s getting pretty late. You get yourself to bed so you’re fresh for the archery contest, okay?”

If Regina were awarding points for subtlety, hers would be in the range of the East German judge right about now. It takes considerable effort not to roll her eyes, but then Emma takes her hand instead of gripping her elbow for the last little bit of their walk, and Regina finds herself comforted by it. 

As they settle into the sitting room, Regina busies herself by summoning up some wine for herself, and a sweet tea for Emma. The magic still seems to fascinate Emma, and it’s hard to resist a little flourish here and there for show. Taking a seat in the armchair that does, yes, look a lot like a throne, Regina sips her wine and clicks her fingers to make her book materialize.

“So, we’re not talking?” Emma ventures as Regina flicks through the pages. “Seriously?”

“Fine,” Regina sighs, closing the book again. “What do you want to know?” She snaps then, the emotion rising to the surface before she can stop it. “Which sob story excuses me, hmm?”

“Regina, I didn’t—”

“No, tell me, Emma—are the beatings sufficient explanation? Or do you want to know the cruel words my mother wounded me with every day? Because let me tell you, there are some particularly good ones.”

“She hurt you?” Emma’s eyes are filling with tears, and her expression says that her worst fears have been confirmed. Regina’s been dancing around this topic so long that it’s almost a relief to finally speak the words. She feels light-headed, almost as though she’s not in control of her own tongue.

“Of course she hurt me,” she says. “I was a wilful, disobedient child.”

“Are you saying you think you deserved it?” Emma is stunned at that. “Because you didn’t, Regina. No matter what happened, you deserved a mother who was kind to you.”

“You didn’t have that,” Regina points out, pressing down on the nearest available bruise, anything to divert Emma from what’s just too hard to discuss, no matter how blasé Regina tries to sound about it. “Didn’t you deserve it?”

“The fact that you’re even going there now tells me how much pain you’re in,” Emma says, biting down on her bottom lip. With no little difficulty she eases her pregnant body from the couch to the floor, resting her head on Regina’s lap. “So we won’t talk about it anymore, unless you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Regina grouses, because that much at least should be obvious. She strokes Emma’s hair absently for a moment, before turning back to her book.  

“What are you reading?” Emma asks after a minute, her fingers tracing patterns on Regina’s knee through her skirts. 

“Baby names,” Regina replies, tempted to lie but not finding any point. “Since you raised the topic.”

“Is it normal?” Emma asks. “Or fairytale?”

“Most ‘normal’ names originated in this world, you know,” Regina points out. “Although there’s something to be said for ‘Puff’ if we want to broaden the net.”

“Puff?” Emma’s head snaps up in confusion. “As in…”

“…the magic dragon,” Regina finishes, grinning wickedly. She’s not entirely back to herself, but that won’t stop her having some fun at Emma’s expense.

“Hey!” Emma says, smacking Regina on the thigh. “What about family names? I still don’t know my whole family tree, you know?”

“Well, your mother is called Snow, so we can work with that,” Regina smirks, making a great show of flicking through the pages. “Let’s see—Air? Lake? Ooh, Thunder?”

“Are you just flat-out mocking me now?” Emma asks, getting to her feet and forcing Regina to make some room for her on the huge chair. Emma wraps her arms around Regina and kisses her quickly, a seal on the fragile peace. 

“Of course not,” Regina says, deadly serious. “It’s important to respect nature, you know. Now let’s see—Storm? Star? Huh, apparently Mahogany is a name? That’s a new one on me.”

“You’re the actual worst,” Emma sighs. “I thought you were trying to drop the ‘Evil’ from your title these days?”

“Oh, I never said that,” Regina says, enjoying the way Emma nestles against her. She feels wanted, included in a way that seemed impossible. “Don’t worry about the name. We have time.”

“Not much,” Emma argues. “I can’t believe I’m doing this again. In a land without epidurals. I must be insane.”

“Oh, we already knew that,” Regina agrees. “But… I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” 

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Emma asks quietly, her face serious as she searches Regina’s for signs of deception. Regina is hastily reminded that she’s not the only one with family issues, and she feels calm again at last.

“I really do,” she says, kissing Emma soundly. “Now, shall we ditch the book and go to bed?”

“Now you’re talking,” Emma says, laughing. Regina can’t help but smile in return.


	5. Chapter 5

“You…” Emma hears herself saying, unable to censor her thoughts anymore. “You did this to me.”

“Emma, dear,” Regina starts to argue, but Emma holds up one trembling hand to silence her.

“Let’s have sex, you said. You’re so beautiful,  _you said_. And now the goddamned baby is coming,” Emma’s point ends in a wail as the next contraction hits. 

”You are very beautiful,” Regina says softly, pressing a cool cloth against Emma’s face. “Even when you’re scared. Do you know how rare that is? Nobody should look as good as you do during this.”

“Do you really think flattery is gonna get you anywhere?” Emma gasps. “Do you think I’m ever letting you touch me again?”

“Emma,” Snow warns from the other side of the bed. “I know this hurts. But just breathe and listen to Doc, okay?” Emma’s pretty sure there’s some glaring going on over her head, but she’s already too exhausted to care.

“Doc,” Emma whines. “Can’t you hurry this up?”

“Now, Princess,” Doc says cheerfully from where he’s peering under her gown (and that is so not a visual Emma is recovering from, ever) “babies set their own pace. You were just as difficult, you know.”

“Only you insisted on coming too fast,” Snow says, wistfully. Emma feels the air change in the room, feels thirty years of pain and regret swirling, but charges it down with a scream as another contraction tears her apart.

“I hate you,” Emma sobs. “I hate all of you.”

“Come on,” Regina mutters, her mouth close to Emma’s ear. “You’re doing so well. Hold my hand, okay?”

Emma squeezes that hand during the next contraction, hard, just to make her sorry. There’s an ominous crack and a hiss from Regina that makes Emma ease up pretty quickly.

“Did I break it?” Emma asks.

“No,” Regina groans. “But it was pretty close.” She shakes out her elegant fingers and then uses them to sweep hair back off Emma’s face. “Nearly there.”

“I thought—” Emma is panting now, trying to breathe her way through. This was so much easier with Henry. What was all that crap about a second baby being quicker? “I didn’t think you’d be good. At this part.”

Regina looks hurt for a moment, in that way she has that makes her whole face seem haunted. But she blinks it away and kisses Emma’s forehead. 

“I didn’t think I would be either,” Regina confesses in a whisper. For a moment, Emma feels like they’re the only two people in the world.

She’s pleased that even Regina couldn’t quite dress up for childbirth. Instead she’s wearing one of Emma’s unused dresses, a simple white thing that’s a welcome departure from her usual black dominatrix-wear. Not that Emma doesn’t appreciate Regina’s wardrobe in less difficult times, but today she seems more like Regina the Mayor, more like something from the world Emma knows and misses. 

“Okay,” Doc says, shattering Emma’s moment of peace. “Next time you’re going to start really pushing for me, Princess.”

“Doc,” Emma fires back. “Given where you’re sitting right now, could we maybe drop the titles?”

“I’m afraid not, Princess,” Doc says with a wry shake of his head. 

“Emma,” Snow says, reaching for Emma’s free hand. “I am so proud of you.”

It’s intended to help, hearing her name, and Emma finds herself comforted by it. Not for the first time she wonders if she might be better at all this emotional crap if she’d been raised by Snow. Even a couple of years with Mary Margaret had undone some of the darkest, most twisty habits Emma had picked up over the years. 

“Here we go,” Doc says as the next contraction makes Emma wail. “Push!”

“Fuck, fuck, motherfucker!” Emma pants. It’s not even close to the worst thing she’s said these past few hours and she doesn’t care that everyone but Regina is blushing furiously.

And then the worst pain really hits.

Emma loses her thoughts in the shouting and the cheers of encouragement and at one point Henry pops his head around the door only to disappear again looking terrified. Regina and Snow hold her hands until oh God—she’s not going to survive this, she’s not—and then everything is red and black and  _ithurtsithurtsithurts_  until… their baby cries. 

Their baby is crying and Emma falls back against the pillows, completely exhausted. She’s never been this tired, never in her entire life. Regina slips away from her side, and Emma cries out softly at the loss. She wants to say ‘come back’ but the words won’t form. 

She blinks and blinks and then Regina is back, only now she’s cradling a crying baby in her arms. It’s the most…  _right_ … thing Emma has ever seen.  Regina’s staring at the baby the way Emma stared the first time she saw real magic performed, wide-eyes and trembling lips and something like disbelief.

“She…” Regina’s voice cracks, and she clears her throat. “She looks a little like me.”

She bends then, letting Emma see the shock of dark hair and the tiny, dark eyes. 

“It was worth it,” Emma says softly. “Oh God, it was so completely worth it.” She’s crying now, almost blinded by the tears. “Look. Look at you two.”

Henry chimes in then, and Emma didn’t even notice him come in. Doc has already draped clean sheets over her, and although she must look awful she’s happy to have the people she loves most around her.

“Uh oh,” Henry says. “You know, dark-colored dragons are the most vicious. I read that.”

“Henry!” Snow chastizes from where she’s fussing with a blanket. “Don’t tease your mother at a time like this.”

“Does she—” Emma can’t believe she’s asking this, but the dread outweighs her embarrassment. “Is she… okay?”

“No tail,” Regina confirms, touching a freshly cleaned toe. “No scales,” she adds, kissing the baby’s head. “And so far, no fire.”

“We should wrap her in more than the towel,” Snow says, holding out her arms. “It’s drafty in this castle.”

“Oh,” Henry says, reaching for something on one of the chairs. “I brought this like you asked, Mom.”

Regina smiles at him then, their old bond shining through. She’ll always be Mom to him, even though Emma is now Ma. 

He holds out Emma’s own baby blanket, and Emma nods through fresh tears at the sight of it. Regina deftly wraps it around their daughter, humming under her breath as she does.

“Here,” she says to Emma, placing the baby in her arms. “Look what you did.”

“Hey,” Emma croons at the squirming little girl, already comfortable with the slight weight of her in her arms. “Oh hey, beautiful. You do look just like your Mommy.”

She looks up at Regina, who smiles in a very watery way. Before she too can lose it, Regina turns to Henry and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. The quiet desperation on her face is more Evil Queen than the Earth Mama look she’s rocking with the loose white dress and undone hair, but Henry clutches at her just as furiously.

“We love you, Henry. We have both always loved you, and we will love you just as much, okay?” Regina’s voice is soft but determined. “You’re going to be a wonderful big brother, I just know it. It’s thanks to you that we have this family at all.”

“That’s right kid,” Emma agrees, tearing her eyes away from her daughter’s face. “You should be proud of yourself.”

He wriggles away from Regina at last, leaning in to press a kiss to Emma’s damp cheek at then peer down at the baby. 

“Are you sure she doesn’t have horns, though? Her hair is sitting kind of funny,” he points out, ever hopeful.

“Henry,” Emma warns. “Your hair would be funny if you’d just been through what she has.” She offers the baby her pinky finger to suck on, marvelling as tiny arms move around it. 

She hears Regina and Snow muttering at the foot of the bed, but Emma doesn’t look up. She can’t do anything about this sense of wonder she feels looking at the baby’s tiny, red face. She’s been thinking about this day for months, but it’s so much different now without the prison-issue bed or the hovering guards. Nobody is waiting to handcuff her again, or to whisk this baby away. She gets this moment, and all the moments after it, Emma realizes. That alone sets the crying off all over again, but they’re the happiest of tears. 

“Here,” she says after who knows how long. She’s looking at Snow, now. Looking at Mary Margaret transformed into a Queen. “Wouldn’t you like to meet your granddaughter?”

Snow bursts into tears but moves forward to clutch at the little bundle Emma offers her. Smiling at the little girl, Snow rubs a piece of the blanket between her thumb and forefinger, her face conflicted as she looks back at Regina. Emma holds her breath, waiting for it to be ruined, for the weight of the past to crush the present beneath its heel, but the explosion doesn’t come.

“Oh, she is so perfect,” Snow says after a moment, rocking the baby gently. “And her name?”

“Amelia,” Emma says suddenly, recalling the last conversation she and Regina had before inadvertently setting off labor. “We both liked Amelia, right?”

Regina shrugs, having already insisted that this time Emma could pick the name, since Henry is named for Regina’s father. 

“If you’re sure you want to miss out on all those good ones I found,” Regina says, coming back around to perch on the side of the bed and wrap one careful arm around Emma’s shoulders. “I still think Tornado was a winner.”

“It’s not too late to call off the wedding,” Emma grouses. “Behave, Regina.”

“I hope for your sake, Amelia, that you don’t inherit your mother’s complete lack of a sense of humor,” Regina says, smirking. She kisses Emma, tenderly, not caring that Snow and Henry make a reluctant audience.

“I need to clean up,” Emma says when they part. “But maybe I can sleep for a little while first?”

“Whatever you want,” Regina promises. “I’m right here.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh,” Regina says, startled at the unexpected person in the nursery. “I didn’t realize you’d be here. Your Majesty,” she adds, as a very tired afterthought.

“I suppose we can drop all that,” James says, turning around with Amelia in his arms. “You are still a Queen, after all.”

“If you say so,” Regina replies, her smile tight. “I can go, if you want a little time with your granddaughter.”

“No,” James says, his face darkening for a moment. “Alas, I have a kingdom to run. And that won’t be done with a baby in my arms.”

”Here,” Regina says, stepping in to take her daughter. “Hello, my darling,” she coos at Amelia, who’s babbling quite happily to herself despite the change in person holding her.

Regina doesn’t like to show this human side to either James or Snow if she can help it, but she won’t ever be closed off around her daughter, that was a silent promise made the second she saw her.

“Doc says she’s growing well,” James says, his voice a little gruff as he adjusts his sleeves. 

“Yes,” Regina confirms, tucking the blanket a little tighter around Amelia. “And she’s already showing progress far beyond her age, too. Her reactions, her movement,” Regina is proud, but she realizes she’s starting to babble. “All is well,” she finishes.

“You’re taking her out?” James asks, looking out of the window at the breeze that’s whipping through the trees.

“She’ll be well looked after,” Regina says, turning to leave. “I have done this before.”

She sweeps briskly through the halls until she finds Emma waiting by the door into the Rose Garden. Amelia burbles contentedly in her arms, and Regina finds that her flare of irritation has already dissipated by the time she sees her wife-to-be framed in the weak morning sunlight.

“Your father sends his regards,” Regina says as they exchange a brief kiss. “I found him, in the nursery.”

Emma looks at her warily, not so pale now that she’s up and walking around every day. The weeks after giving birth to Amelia were not kind to her, and there are still some dark smudges beneath her eyes that betray she’s not quite herself yet. Regina chokes back the daily guilt at having Emma bear a child here, where her magic can’t quite compensate for the healthcare left behind in Maine.

“Did you two argue?” Emma asks, leaning in to kiss their daughter on her forehead. “Let me put her in the stroller,” she adds, lifting the little girl and placing her in the old-fashioned buggy.

“Of course not,” Regina says sniffily. “Although I seriously think we need to revisit moving to my castle sooner rather than later. My servants can—”

“I want my family around me,” Emma says, and it’s not quite snapping but the tone invites no argument. “At least until I feel stronger again.”

“Very well,” Regina relents, slipping her arm through Emma’s as she steers the stroller out onto the lawn.

“I’d like to get out though,” Emma admits once they’re a good distance from the castle wall. “Maybe take Amelia out for a ride now that the weather is better. Do they… well, you know like carseats? Do they have those for horses?”

It takes a considerable amount of restraint, but Regina suppresses the laugh that bubbles up. The image alone is enough to make her jaw tremble, but she holds on.

“Not…exactly,” she settles on saying. “Babies and horses don’t generally mix. There’s always the carriage.”

“But that means taking guards with us,” Emma whines. “Don’t you want some privacy, sometimes?”

“More than you know,” Regina confesses, and now that they’re surrounded only by trellises filled with roses, she pulls Emma close. “It’s pretty private right here, in fact. And you look especially hot today.”

“Well, I don’t feel it,” Emma sighs, letting go of the stroller and wrapping herself up in Regina’s embrace. “It’s nice to fit into things again, though.”

“It doesn’t have to be a long spell in the garden,” Regina murmurs. “If you felt like you wanted to retire to bed, I’m sure everyone would understand.”

“When you say that with your hand on my ass, your motives are a little obvious,” Emma says, but she’s smiling as she kisses Regina. “And when our little girl gets older, you’ll have to be more subtle.”

“We’ve coped well enough with Henry running around,” Regina argues, but as though saying his name has conjured him up, Henry’s deepening voice calls out from some other part of the garden.

“Moms? Are you in here?” Henry doesn’t sound particularly concerned about finding them, and Regina is strongly considering staying silent. But Emma, always too quick, is already calling out in response. 

“Hi, kid,” Emma says as Henry appears around a gap in the roses. “Do me a favor, would you?”

“What?” He asks, ready to whine and complain if he doesn’t like it. 

“Take your sister,” Emma says firmly. “And go find your grandma. I’m going to go lie down for a while, okay?”

Henry considers for a moment, and he’s walking to the stroller when he works it out.

“Ew, gross, Moms,” he sighs. “Come on Amelia. Get out of here while you can. You’re so lucky you’re a baby.”

“So much for not traumatizing our children,” Regina mutters as Henry wheels the buggy away. “Come here,” she says to Emma, reaching for her hand.

“Taking me upstairs?” Emma asks, sounding hopeful.

“Better,” Regina says, clicking her fingers and then pulling Emma close once more. “Hold on tight, dear.”

When the black smoke stops swirling, they’re in an empty bedroom at the Summer Palace. Regina’s always felt most at home here, despite it being built for another woman. 

“Wow,” Emma says, looking at the huge bed. “In a little while I am going to sleep so hard on that.”

“Of course,” Regina agrees. “But first, you’ll have to let me tire you out.”


	7. Chapter 7

Emma’s eyes snap open as the first wail comes from the nursery. Groaning, she forces herself to roll out of bed, the stone floor cold beneath her bare feet. 

“Coming,” she mutters to no one, because her bed is now empty without her in it. She pads through to the baby’s room, the wails increasing in volume and frequency as she moves.

“Oh, little dragon,” she sighs as she picks her daughter carefully out of the crib. “What’s the problem tonight, huh?”

Emma’s had about an hour’s sleep and so the rude awakening has left her groggy and reeling. Her mother keeps insisting that she can have a nursemaid for this kind of duty, but Emma feels very strongly that she has to do it herself. It’s not like life at court is so stimulating otherwise. She has the luxury of being a full-time mother and she intends to use that opportunity. 

Even if it does leave her feeling like a zombie. 

Amelia quietens for a little while at the feeling of being held in her mother’s arms. Emma bounces her gently as she settles in the rocking chair which is hands down the best gift anyone has ever given her. It’s like sitting on the hand of God himself, it’s so comfortable.

Emma hums a little as she rocks, unable to remember more than a few lines of any baby-appropriate song. There have been nights when the poor kid has been treating to a cappella Britney Spears or Green Day, but Emma’s trying to cut down on that.

But the peace is short-lived and soon her daughter is screaming so loudly that Emma swears an eardrum just popped. It hurts to look at that little red face, imagining what might be making Amelia so unhappy. Emma performs the spot checks of diaper, temperature and anything in the nursery that might be upsetting, but comes up with no results. It’s just plain old screaming then, and Emma really tries to hold it together.

“You know, kid,” Emma says when Amelia pauses for breath. “Sometimes it really feels like you hate me.”

Amelia responds with another round of shrieks.

“And,” Emma would be surprised to find herself crying, if it wasn’t something that happened two or three times a day lately. “It makes me wonder if Henry was like this, too.” She’s just talking over the crying now, hoping that Amelia will respond to her voice. “Your Mom must have felt as crappy as I do, if he cried every night like this.”

“He didn’t,” says a voice from the doorway. Emma feels a relief so strong at the sight of Regina that if she were standing, her knees would give way. 

“I thought you were gone until morning,” Emma says through her tears. “The trolls—”

“Have been taken care of,” Regina says, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck. “You want me to take her?”

“Please,” Emma says, a little ashamed at how she doesn’t even hesitate. “She likes you better, anyway.”

“Don’t be silly,” Regina says, and though she sounds a little sharp, it’s not unkind. She looks good, Emma notes, in her black leather pants and fitted red shirt. There’s some dust in evidence, and Regina’s longer hair is messier than usual, but otherwise she seems unscathed from her night’s work.

Emma knows that Regina resents being pressed into magical service for a Royal Family she has no intention of serving, but by doing so, the fragile peace in the castle continues; for that, Emma is grateful.

“Come here,” Regina says softly, as Amelia’s cries begin to slow. By the time Emma stands up she’s already burbling again, perfectly calm.

“What did you do?” Emma demands. 

“I find if you rub little circles just here,” Regina says, patting Amelia’s back. “And if that doesn’t work, make shushing noises right by her ear. It makes them feel like they’re back in the womb.”

“Are you telling me that babies come with… cheat codes?” Emma asks, incredulous. “Because someone should seriously write that shit down.”

“You learn,” Regina says, leaning in to kiss Emma on the mouth. She lingers for a moment, clearly enjoying it. “Nobody is a perfect mother from day one. Not even me.”

Regina steps across the room to return drowsy Amelia to her crib. As she does, Emma squeals at the sight of a tiny fireball floating up into the air. 

“What the hell…?” Emma can’t move. After all the joking and teasing, it can’t possibly be happening.

Regina looks up in annoyance, flicking her fingers and soaking the curtain that’s beginning to smolder. It’s only when she turns around that she sees Emma’s stricken face.

“Oh,” she says, bursting out into quiet laugher. “It wasn’t Amelia, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Emma hisses, hopping from one foot to the other in agitation now. 

“Yes!” Regina assures her, leading Emma back through to their bedroom. “I’ve been casting spells all night, very repetitive. And when I get tired sometimes a little excess slips through. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“This is so weird,” Emma sighs as she crawls back into bed. Regina sheds her clothing, not bothering with a nightgown as she slips under the sheets on her side. “Remember when my biggest problem was finding a chainsaw to piss you off?”

“The good old days,” Regina sighs. “Well, this is more normal to me, just about. You’ll get used to it, dear.”

“Okay,” Emma says, snuggling closer beneath the covers. “But if our kid starts actually producing fireballs, you have a plan, right?”

“Of course,” Regina snaps, but there’s an uneasy silence. “Well, I would make one.”

“Good,” Emma says, resting her head on Regina’s chest. “Your turn next time she goes off.”

“She’s a baby, Emma,” Regina says softly. “Not a fire alarm.”

“Tell that to my ears,” Emma says, beginning to drift off. “Glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” is the last thing she hears before sleep claims her. 


	8. Chapter 8

It’s not until she feels Emma’s hand on her back that Regina stops. The air is crackling with the magic she’s summoned, the spell unfinished and but still threatening.

Snow White stands mere feet away, chin stuck up, completely defiant. 

“Regina,” Emma says softly, but the note of panic is obvious. “What the hell are you doing, babe?”

”She is trying,” Regina spits, furious beyond all reason. “To keep my daughter from me. I won’t allow it Emma. I warned you. I warned all of you.”

“I merely suggested that Amelia might be more soothed by your presence, Emma,” Snow says evenly, not shifting an inch from where she stands in front of the crib. “Especially when there’s a distinct smell of smoke in the nursery. Probably Regina’s doing.”

“Mom,” Emma says, her voice full of warning. She loops her arms around Regina’s waist now, anchoring her once more. Somewhere along the line, Emma Swan has gotten very good at handling Regina, and she doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. “Regina is every bit as much Amy’s mom as I am. You know that.”

“I know,” Snow says, relaxing just a little even as she continues to stare Regina down. “But I also told you that her civil behavior was a condition of allowing her into our home.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Regina snaps, turning to place a quick kiss on Emma’s cheek. “You know where I’ll be, if you need me.”

“Regina—” Emma protests, but the smoke is already swirling. Regina closes her eyes, and feels herself disappear.

***

“Regina!” That familiar, sarcastic voice echoes in the cavernous room. “I wondered when I’d finally see you.”

“You’re supposed to be dead, dear,” Regina says wearily. “I couldn’t exactly invite you for supper.”

“Well, you’re living with Snow and her Charming now,” Maleficent says with a smirk. “I’d say just about anything is possible.”

“Do not remind me,” Regina says. “Aren’t you going to offer me some wine?”

“When you tell me why you’re here,” Maleficent says, not unkindly. Her ugly little unicorn comes running to her side, and Regina makes no effort to hide her sneer. “Now, now,” Maleficent scolds. “I hear you have another squalling brat. Don’t begrudge me my pets, Regina.”

“I need a little…advice,” Regina admits, taking a seat in the empty throne at Maleficent’s side. “From someone of your particular background.”

“I’m not the only witch in these lands,” Maleficent says warily. “Which means you want something more specific from me.”

“Always so suspicious, my old friend,” Regina retorts.

“You’ll forgive me,” Maleficent counters. “But it was a long, dark, twenty-eight years.”

“Ah,” Regina sighs. “There is that.”

“Ask me, whatever it is,” Maleficent urges. “I don’t have all day.”

“Your…condition,” Regina hedges. “When were you first aware of it?”

“Am I to assume you mean my tendency towards dry skin? Or perhaps you mean my long-sightedness?” Maleficent asks, all faked innocence.

“You know very well what I mean,” Regina says, gripping the arms of the throne. “How old were you?”

“I’m told I displayed the first signs before the turn of my second year,” Maleficent answers. “Although with parents like mine, it’s hard to be sure.” They share a tight-lipped smile of empathy at that. 

“Oh,” Regina ponders that news, considering the eleven months that have passed since Amelia’s birth. “Well, that’s all I wanted to know. An idle curiosity.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Maleficent says sharply, although she’s distracted by the flapping wings of her ugly raven. “This child of your royal union… conceived by magic, was she?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Regina asks, and it makes her feel like she’s back in Gucci pantsuits, presenting a careful mask of confusion and disbelief as she so frequently had to in Storybrooke. 

“How do you think my condition came about?” Maleficent asks. “How is your Princess taking the news?”

“As well as can be expected,” Regina lies, more smoothly this time. The Gods know she’s had enough practice. “Anyway, I must be off. She’ll be joining me at my castle.”

“You know where I am,” Maleficent says quietly. “And you can always bring the child to me. Should it prove too… difficult.”

“You want to raise a child?” Regina asks, incredulous. 

“No,” Maleficent corrects. “But I’m far less squeamish than you when it comes to getting rid of them.”

Regina pulls her cloak around herself, muttering the incantation. She feels sick as she melts away.

***

Hours later, from the window of her music room, Regina hears the carriage approach. It’s probably just Henry, she assumes, given that he’s overdue for another magic lesson. Regina can’t deny the thrill she gets in watching him inherit something from her, even if not through blood.

Her steward slinks into the room a short while later, clearing his throat only when he sees that Regina has noticed him. They’re warying of ever surprising her, it would seem. How she misses her fearless, heartless guards. 

“Princess Emma has arrived, your Majesty,” he says, and Regina can’t help but smile at him. So much for the Evil Queen, she thinks with a sigh. 

“Well, show her in,” Regina commands. “This is her home, too. And she is to be extended every service and courtesy—”

“As you wish,” the steward says hurriedly, almost running back out into the hall. Emma appears a moment later, and Regina can hear Henry in the hall, chattering to Amelia based on his tone. Her family is here, even if only for the night.

“Hey,” Emma says, looking a little wary. “So, you kind of blew up earlier.”

“I did,” Regina admits. She’s not even close to being ready to apologize; there’s no way in hell that apology will ever be to Snow. 

“And it got me thinking,” Emma continues. “That since we came back here, it’s kind of been all about what I want, and what I need.”

“That’s only fair,” Regina says, surprising herself at how gentle it sounds. She hasn’t felt gentle all day. “My punishments could have been much more severe.”

“Being with me shouldn’t be part of your punishment,” Emma says, crossing the remaining space to take Regina by the shoulders. “You work that out with everyone else, but this?” She continues, gesturing between them. “You don’t have to make it some kind of penance.”

“I love you,” Regina says, her eyes prickling with tears. She feels exhausted just saying it. “And it’s hard to believe that I deserve to have you.”

“Well, you got me, dummy,” Emma says, moving her hands to Regina’s face, wiping tears away with her thumbs. “And you’ve got those two brats in the hall,” she adds, loud enough for Henry to overhear.

“Hey!” He shouts back. “I’m going to put Amelia in your room, okay? She’s asleep already.”

“She won’t be if you keep shouting,” Regina replies. “But thank you, Henry.”

“So, it’s been a while since I saw our bedroom here,” Emma says, a little coy. 

“You prefer the summer palace,” Regina points out. “But I appreciate you coming here for the night.”

“Not for the night,” Emma counters. “Another thing that occurred to me is that a family needs their own home. Too many parents spoil the… well, the baby, probably in this case.”

“You mean it?” Regina wraps her arms around Emma’s waist, pulling her closer. 

“No,” Emma sasses, mouth already against Regina’s neck. “Because I always say things I don’t mean.”

“You’re feisty today,” Regina remarks, smiling even brighter than before. “That bodes well for me.”

“As soon as we can get some privacy, yes,” Emma points out. “But we should spend some time with Henry first. It’s still early.”

“Of course,” Regina says, not letting go. Henry hasn’t come back downstairs yet after all. “And we need to talk, too.”

“About Amelia?” Emma asks, pulling away just far enough to look Regina in the eyes. “Because I can’t help thinking that smoke once is an accident; twice was maybe a coincidence, but this is three, Regina.”

“You’re surprisingly calm,” Regina replies. “But, yes. I have some concerns. I spoke to an old friend today, for some advice.”

“I really thought I was done with dragons,” Emma groans. “What have we done?”

“We’ve made a beautiful daughter,” Regina reminds her. “And the rest we will… deal with, okay?”

“I doubt it’s gonna be that easy somehow,” Emma sighs, but she kisses Regina anyway. Which, naturally, is Henry’s cue to return. 

“Ew!” He yells from the doorway. “I haven’t had dinner yet!”

“Get over it, kid,” Emma says as she breaks away from Regina, taking her hand instead. “You’re stuck with this crap for the rest of our lives.”

Regina squeezes Emma’s hand for that; one more time, Regina is reminded why all of this is worth it. 


End file.
